For Them It Was Tuesday
by Aphrael1742
Summary: A little lettuce leaf for a little plot-bunny.


Zarik strode purposefully down the well-lit corridors of Venus XII, making his way toward the central chamber. Behind him marched two dozen heavily armed and grim-faced guards, all men whom Zarik had personally selected from the guard regiments of the Corpus facility. Engineers and patrols hurriedly moved out of their way as they went through the facility. The engineers stood gawking, and the patrols saluted crisply. Zarik ignored all of them. There was, after all, much better things that he had to do.

He arrived at a service elevator only ten minutes later, placing his palm upon a slate at its side. The device beeped and booped and made an annoying tinkling sound, and, far above him, there was a muffled clatter as the elevator started down. Zarik paced impatiently before the silver door of the elevator, flicking an occasional frustrated gaze toward one of the unoffending guards standing behind him. After what seemed like hours, the lights on the silver door flashed green. It was a little cramped inside the elevator, but Zarik and his guards managed. The ride was a little bumpy and noisy, but Zarik and his guards were used to such discomforts anyway.

"You'd think that one of our most well-funded facilities could afford better elevators," Zarik observed mildly. Nervous laughter rippled through the ranks of the guards behind him. "Come, now, gentlemen," Zarik said expansively. "This would not do at all. You are now the personal guard of Director Roseff, fearless warriors of legendary skill whose combat prowess is unparalleled. Lighten up! This is the biggest day of your lives, and nerves simply would not do." The guards shifted uncomfortably, wondering if what Zarik said was a jest or rebuke. Zarik sighed. "Straighten yourselves!" he barked. "Act like you actually know what you are doing!"

The guards understood _that_ , and, as one, they straightened, pulling their rifles crisply toward them.

"Much better," Zarik approved.

The elevator clattered upward for a few more seconds, then it came to a sudden stop. The chamber beyond was just as well-lit as any in the facility. There were stained windows high above, allowing rainbow light to filter into the room. Banners softened its stark walls, and the floor had been cleared of everything save for a single crimson carpet that stretched from the elevator to an imposing chair – almost a throne – at the far end of the room. Zarik stepped out of the elevator and, with a few short gestures, dispatched the guards to opposite walls of the room. He went across the floor, circled around the throne, and slipped through a small door into an antechamber behind it.

Director Roseff sat primly before a mirror, practicing a look of stern regality. She was a slight woman, and her gown, a thing of massive frills and stiff brocade, gave her an appealingly petite look. A silver circlet was placed atop her head, and she looked stunningly regal. "What is it?" she asked absently as Zarik strode in.

"Your honor guard is here, Roseff," Zarik replied.

"Oh, good. I was just getting worried. The Grineer delegation would arrive in a couple of hours." She turned to look at him. "Is everything ready, then?"

"We will just need to scan the chamber one more time, and post some more robots in patrol routes."

A look of exasperation flashed across her face. "You've done that three times already."

"A little precaution would not hurt," he said reasonably.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to her mirror. "Let me know when you have finished fussing about."

"As my lady commands," he said a little mockingly, turning and walking out of the antechamber.

Roseff was still in front of her mirror when he returned an hour later, and she was still practicing. "You've done that a hundred times already," Zarik told her flatly.

"Stop that," she said.

"Stop what?"

"Don't use my words against me. This is an important event, Zarik." A sly smile touched her lips. "A little precaution would not hurt."

"And your life is more important, Roseff," Zarik replied floridly.

Roseff smoothed the front of her gown and stood. "Let's go, then. I want to settle in before the delegation gets here."

Plump cushions had been placed on the throne, and they gave when Roseff sat upon them, their seams looking almost as though they would burst. She wiggled around until she was comfortable, then sat there primly, her face drawn in an artful display of regal boredom. Then she seemed almost to grow still, unmoving as she waited.

Zarik did not grow still. He had a datapad in his hand, and he studied it intently, looking over feeds of surveillance in the chamber and its immediate vicinity.

Then his radio crackled. "The delegation is here, sir," a voice spoke.

Zarik gestured crisply. "Look sharp!" he roared, and the honor guard moved to stand imposingly along the walls.

After some time, the elevator door rattled open, and a score of Grineer marched out. The carpet muffled some of their heavy footfalls, but the rhythmic beat of their lockstep march was clearly audible. At their front was one in black armor. His elaborate headwear concealed much of his mottled head, but the splotchy complexion customary of all Grineer was much in evidence in his exposed face.

He crashed to a halt some distance before the throne. "The Queens send their greetings," he announced in a pompous voice, "and the Senate also. I am Vorskar, royal emissary and faithful servant of General Torvin, who graces you with this opportunity for a truce."

"Cut it out," Roseff snapped. "I have much better things to do. Say what you came here to say and leave."

Vorskar's expression became cold. "You dare speak to me that way?"

"I dare," Roseff replied coolly. "You need the aid of the Corpus. I control a sizeable portion of the armies and trade of the Corpus. I can speak to you however I want."

Vorskar's face mottled with rage, and he struggled to get his expressions back under control. Zarik resisted the urge to smirk. The Grineer were poor diplomats. "Very well," Vorskar said after a moment. "I will be brief, then. The Tenno are starting to bring harm to both of us. Their constant interference is problematic. General Torvin proposes an alliance of mutual benefit between those Corpus under your control and those Grineer under his command. Together we shall put an end to this pest." The last he said with an exultant finality.

"No."

Vorskar's expression became one of disbelief. "No?" he asked incredulously. "No?"

"You heard me. We do not fight unprofitable battles. What do we gain from this?"

"Surely the disruption the Tenno cause you are problematic!"

"An inconvenience, yes. A problem? Not quite. Any business venture must needs have its risks. We can view this matter philosophically." She gave him an amused look. "You are a military man. You must understand this." Then she slapped her forehead exaggeratingly. "Oh, of course. But you cannot, could you? Such setbacks are less forgiving on a military operation than they are on a business one. Well, unlucky you."

"If it's profit you want," Vorskar spat, "we are prepared to offer devices. Orokin salvage."

Roseff fixed him with a flat stare. "We have that in abundance," she said dismissively.

"How about Orokin relics? Working machinery and weapons."

" _Do_ you really have such things?" Roseff asked him archly. She buffed her nails on the front of her dress. "You need our aid, but you do not need our aid that badly. Please don't waste my time offering things you don't have."

"What do you want?" he asked bluntly.

"Nothing that you can offer, apparently. I would settle for trade, but I am making a handsome profit off arming insurgents fighting against the tyranny of your empire." She smiled smugly at him.

"Blueprints for our Formorian ships, then," he said, a note of desperation creeping into his voice.

"That's an interesting offer," she said archly. "You have my interest, messenger. The blueprints come before we provide any help, and my engineers will verify it with an inspection of one of your Formorians."

"Unthinkable," Vorskar said flatly.

"Then we have nothing to talk about. You are desperate. I am not. In case it needs to be said, this puts me in a position of strength."

Vorskar stared at her with a look bordering on open hatred, but he mutely nodded.

"Very good," Roseff said. "I will send my-"

From somewhere outside the facility, there was a deep toned rumble. Zarik glanced quickly at his datapad, and he stared at the footage in horror. The shuttles that the Grineer had arrived on were on fire. And there, attacking the Grineer soldiers hunkering down behind the wreckage of their shuttles, were Corpus bursas.

"What is it?" Roseff asked in concern. Mutely, Zarik showed her the footage, and the color drained out of Roseff's face.

Vorskar's update of the situation took a little longer, and he looked up in anger. "Treachery!" he cried. "Treachery!" His soldiers moved quickly to form up around him, their weapons levelled at Roseff. Zarik moved without thinking. He hit a button in the side of her throne, and a blue shield shimmered in front of her. The Grineer fire struck the barrier. Then the lights went out.

Cursing, Zarik pulled on his helmet, activating the night vision in its visor. "Security," he shouted into his radio. "What are those bursas doing?"

"No idea, sir," came the reply. "They went dark and started attacking the Grineer."

"Solve the problem!" Zarik roared at them.

The Corpus guard had moved, and they were busy trading fire with the Grineer across the sparsely furnished room. The Grineer hid behind their makeshift inflatable cover, and the Corpus behind shimmering walls of energy. The Grineer appeared to be contained, and Zarik turned his attention back to Roseff.

"This is disastrous!" she wailed despairingly. "Torvin isn't going to let this one go."

"There's no help for it now," Zarvik said quickly. "We need to get you out of here." He glanced at the datapad. "The backup generators should be online in half a minute."

Then there was a flash of silver, dropping in among the Grineer troops. Zarik heard Voskar cry out once, and there was the whine of a plasma gun, then the emissary fell silent. The plasma gun whined again, and the Grineer soldiers grew panicky. There was another flash, a movement so quick that Zarik did not see much of anything. A gun thundered. A Grineer gun. One of Roseff's honor guard cried out and fell heavily. The rest turned their attention away from the Grineer. Then their attacker was among them, guns roaring. A bolt of plasma flashed, caught the figure on the side. It stumbled, flipped, and riddled the offending guard with bullets.

Then there was silence.

The lights came on, and Zarik saw only corpses. The Grineer lay in a pile at one end of the chamber, their bodies smoking, cut down by weapons of Corpus design. Roseff's honor guard lay closer to the throne, ripped apart by the solid slug weapons that the Grineer customarily used.

Then Zarik was yanked off his feet. He drew his sidearm, panic rising despite his training, saw something flash above him, and fired the weapon, hearing a satisfactory hiss as the plasma bolts struck home.

"Run!" he shouted at Roseff, and saw her move quickly to comply.

Then something struck his arm, his gun fell from suddenly numb fingers, and he gazed up. And he stared into the face of his attacker. Its mask was polished, intricately wrought, and he noted absently that there was neither visor nor visible external cameras. And he knew instantly that he was dead, and hoped that Roseff could escape, unlikely though it was. And the demigod of war gazed at the quickly disappearing director, but it made no move to pursue. A moment of confusion crossed his mind, and then in a flash of insight, he understood. There could be no grudge between Roseff and Torvin if one of them was dead. That thought comforted Zarik, and he struggled weakly to smile.

He pulled a plasma dagger from his hip, swinging at the figure before him, aimed at its belly. It bit deep. He felt a slight tremor run down the hilt. Pain. He had hurt it. But it made not a single sound.

The creature stumbled back, raising a Grineer rifle, levelled it at his chest. He stared defiantly back. It was the best that he could do. He tried to smirk. Roseff was safe, at least. These Tenno would not hunt her down. It was a small victory, but it was something. Then an errant thought crossed his mind. He would not be there to guard her from the forces of General Torvin. It was such a shame, really. His thoughts clouded for a small instant, and he did not see the flash as the Tenno fired.


End file.
